


and i'll do anything you say / if you say it with your hands

by lantur



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 22:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lantur/pseuds/lantur
Summary: Roy and Riza have a talk about cohabitation.[A companion fic todelicate]
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 28
Kudos: 60





	and i'll do anything you say / if you say it with your hands

**Author's Note:**

> You do not have to be following _delicate_ to read this fic. For context, it is set during the Ishvalan reconstruction efforts of 1915-1920 in the fic's timeline.

Riza moves into her new home in Ishval in April of 1916, at roughly the same time as the rest of the team involved in the Ishvalan reconstruction moves into their homes. They all live in close proximity to one another, in a subsection of the Resafa district. Their homes are comfortable and modest - one bedroom, one bathroom, one kitchen, and one living room. Scar lives on one side of Riza, and Roy lives on the other. Miles and Armstrong, the Lieutenant Colonels, are directly across the street. Havoc, Rebecca, Breda, Brosh, Maria, and Fuery are within shouting distance as well. 

Moving in and unpacking is a relatively simple affair. It still takes most of the evening after work. Riza marvels at her home, walking from one space to the next, and then back again. Black Hayate prances at her side, his tail wagging. There is an abundance of natural light in her home. Riza touches the rough stone walls, admiring the unusual persimmon-orange shade of the stone. The color is made even richer by the golden hue of the sunset light that streams in through the west-facing windows. 

Riza goes next door to help Roy finish unpacking. Unpacking his things takes more than twice as long as it took to unpack hers. “You have more books and clothing than any one person should reasonably need,” she points out, pulling books out of a box, and stacking them on the simple bookshelf Roy and Breda built together. 

Roy runs a hand through his hair, preening. “I am better-dressed and more clever than the average man, after all.”

Riza raises an eyebrow, and he grins at her. 

They return to her house for an exceedingly late dinner; a simple meal of pita bread, hummus, and roasted vegetables. They devour their food while sitting on the small sofa in the living room, too ravenous to even talk. 

“Not bad for a day’s work.” Roy returns from the kitchen, having quickly rinsed their empty dishes. He sinks down beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Four acres harvested, and we moved and unpacked.”

Riza stifles a yawn, snuggling against him. “It’ll be nice to not live out of boxes anymore.”

Roy says something in reply. Riza is so exhausted that she doesn’t quite catch it. Her eyelids are heavy and leaden. She glances up at Roy, and finds him yawning as well. He leans his cheek against the top of her head, and Riza’s eyes drift shut. 

She wakes at five-thirty the following morning, without the help of an alarm, as usual. Riza blinks, rubbing her eyes. The first thing she notices is the stiffness in her neck and back. She winces, stretching her neck. 

The next thing Riza notices is that she is still on the sofa with Roy, curled up against his chest. His arms are wrapped loosely around her, cuddling her close like a child holding a beloved stuffed toy. He is sound asleep. In fact, she suspects that he has drooled on her hair. 

Falling asleep beside Roy has been a part of Riza’s nightly routine since they arrived in Ishval. But he always wakes up before sunrise to return to his own tent. This is the first time since they began their relationship that he has actually spent the entire night with her. 

His company isn’t unwelcome. It’s just ill-advised. Everyone here has a tacit understanding that the two of them are close, but this seems outrageously indiscreet. At least they drew the curtains over the front window before they settled in for dinner. Riza takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. 

Her General looks so peaceful and content, resting as he is. Riza places a hand on Roy’s arm. “Roy,” she whispers. “Wake up.”

Roy mumbles her name. His eyes open slowly. He frowns at her, which is his typical reaction to being roused from sleep. “What is it?” 

“You stayed over here for the entire night.” Riza doesn’t know why she is still whispering. 

“Oh.” Roy doesn’t seem to share her alarm or concern. He closes his eyes again, as if ready to go back to sleep, and buries his face in her hair. “Okay, then.” 

Riza squirms away, nudging him in the side. “It’s a work day. Get up. I have a couple of spare clothes for you in my closet.” 

“Five more minutes. Maybe ten.” Roy tugs the knit blanket thrown across the back of the sofa over his head. 

Riza pulls the blanket away, unmoved. “No. We should try to head out as soon as possible, so that no one sees you leaving here this morning.”

Roy glares at her as he tries to reclaim the blanket. “This is insubordination, Hawkeye.”

“You can rebuke me for it later,” Riza says pointedly. 

Roy regards her with some interest, but makes no move to rise from the sofa.

Riza stands up. “If you don’t get out of bed now, I’m going to ask every food stall in the city to not serve you coffee today.”

Roy stands up so fast that he nearly trips over Black Hayate, who had been lying at his feet. 

The two of them brush their teeth side-by-side in the small bathroom, and get ready for the day together. Riza watches Roy fix his hair, eyeing himself intently in the mirror, unsubtly admiring his own muscles. He catches her noticing him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Riza sniffs. “I didn’t realize it took you that much effort to look so disheveled.”

“I’ll show you disheveled,” Roy growls. He pounces on her and runs his fingers through her bangs, ruffling her hair, until Riza laughs and pushes him off.

-

They leave the house just before six-hundred hours, with Black Hayate trotting ahead of them. No one is on the street to see them take their tentative steps outside of the house together. Riza relaxes fractionally, locking the door behind her.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Roy says in an undertone, as they walk. 

_ Still, we shouldn’t make a habit of it,  _ Riza almost replies. She doesn’t. 

-

Riza is a little preoccupied through the rest of the day. A tiny, irritating impulse gnaws at her. This morning unfolded smoothly. No one seems any the wiser that Roy spent the night with her and woke up with her. It might be risky; it might be careless, but they could try doing it again. 

When they break for lunch, Kaela and Eliane ask her if she is going to have a housewarming. “I hadn’t thought of it,” Riza replies. “I’ve never had one before, when I moved into my apartments in the past.” 

The thought occurs to her that at the time she moved into her apartment in East City, she only knew Rebecca. She moved into her apartment in Central a mere two months after Hughes’ murder. Celebration had been the last thing on her mind, and on the minds of her unit and her commanding officer. 

“You should,” Kaela advises. “It’s an important part of blessing your new home, so that all your days there will be as happy as your housewarming day.”

Riza considers it. She remembers the places she has called home before. Hawkeye Manor lost everything good and warm about it when her mother passed. Her apartment in East City was a sanctuary; a place for her to begin to get back on her feet after the war. Nothing about Central felt safe or like home, including her apartment there. She would like her home here to be a place of comfort and belonging, just like her apartment in East City. 

“All right,” Riza acknowledges. “You two had a nice housewarming at your place. Do you have any advice for me?”

-

Riza plans her housewarming for Friday evening, at the end of the work week. She intended it to be a small, informal gathering. It ends up drawing a much larger crowd than she expected. The entire reconstruction team attends, along with the new friends that Riza has made in Ras Al-Ayn. They fill her living room and kitchen, and spill out into the backyard. The air is alive with the sound of their conversations, as they hold their glasses of arak or iced mint tea, and munch on the roast vegetable and chicken skewers that Riza, Rebecca, Kaela, and Eliane prepared for the occasion. Elicia and Rahat play ball with Black Hayate. Breda and Havoc carried over a table tennis setup, and they play doubles opposite Lieutenant Colonel Miles and Almasi. 

Riza stands on the back porch and looks out at her friends, old and new. She can’t quite believe this is real. She had been such a lonely child and teenager, once. She lived in near-crippling solitude and isolation, too miserable to relate to others. At fourteen, fifteen, sixteen - she would have never been able to imagine that this would be her life, someday. Surrounded by companionship and warmth. 

Rebecca brings her an enormous, brilliantly colored geometric painting created by Mabila Darwish, a prominent local artist. Gracia gives her a lovely blanket with a bold, brightly colored geometric print, and Hadia gives her a pair of Ishvalan glass vases. Elicia and Rahat gift her with a pair of clay dogs that they sculpted in their art class. Riza places both clay dogs on a shelf in her living room. Kaela and Eliane give her a large collection of spices, an Ishvalan recipe book, and some jasmine seeds. Scar stops by with a potted cactus. 

It is late by the time everyone leaves. Almost everyone, at least. Roy stays, after Havoc, Rebecca, Maria, and Breda leave. He closes the door behind them, turning to her. Riza thinks that Roy might tease her for being more popular than he is, as he sometimes does. Instead, he looks at her, and he just smiles. “You’re practically glowing."

Riza ducks her head, embarrassed. She turns away, leading them both to the living room, and they settle on the sofa. Black Hayate lies sprawled out near them, sound asleep, worn out after rigorous play with the children. “Growing up, I never thought....” She trails off. “I never thought that I could, or would, have a time like this.”

Roy’s expression softens. He draws her close, kissing her on the forehead. “You deserve it,” he says simply. “All of it.”

Riza closes her eyes, leaning against him. She treasures the feeling that washes over her; the safety and security of being so completely loved. “You can stay here again tonight,” she offers. “If you would like. I don’t think anyone on our street is going to be up and around before noon tomorrow.”

“I would like that.” Roy trails his fingertips down her upper arm, tracing the bare skin revealed by her sleeveless blouse. They have spent every night together since Riza’s first night in her new home, earlier this week. They have spent every night curled up close in her low, narrow bed, and every morning getting ready for the day together. They have bickered lightly every evening about who gets to shower first after returning home from work. They have cooked dinner side-by-side every evening, and eaten their meals while sitting together on the sofa. It has only been a week, but this house already feels like theirs. 

All of that is on Riza’s mind now. Her heart still flutters in her chest out of sheer nerves. She fixes her attention on her new geometric painting, hung on the opposite wall.  _ You can stay with me every night,  _ is what she wants to tell Roy. 

It doesn’t come out right. “You can bring some more of your clothes and other things here as well, if you want,” Riza says, a little stiffly. “I have space in my closet.” 

Riza dares glancing at him. She doesn’t think she has ever seen Roy look so surprised, so softly happy, before. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Are you sure? It’s a big step.”

Riza nods. She is always sure, when it comes to him. “I am.”

Roy hugs her, and then he kisses the top of her head. “Only if you want it,” Riza hastens to add, even as she returns his embrace. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

“You could never.” Roy strokes her hair. “I promise I’ll pull my weight around here. We’ll cook together every night, and I’ll pick things up at the market and clean the place whenever you want me to.” His hand stills momentarily on the caress. “Don’t ever feel like it’s all on your shoulders.” 

He remembers the time where every household responsibility had fallen to her to deal with, just as keenly as she does. Riza kisses him on the cheek, moved. “Thank you.”

Roy rubs her back. “And don’t hesitate to tell me if you need me to go back to my house for a week or two, either. We already work together all day. I don’t want you getting sick of me.”

“I could never,” Riza admits, in a moment of pure, unguarded honesty. 

Roy smiles at that. He kisses her, slow and sweet. Riza leans into him, wrapping her arms around him. Her mind quiets, as it always does when they kiss, leaving her aware of nothing but peace and contentment. 

They finally break apart. Roy slips his hand underneath the hem of her blouse and traces his thumb in a small circle against her lower back. “One thing about cohabiting,” he muses. “We’ll be able to spend even more time together.”

Riza tilts her head to the side slightly. “I thought you said we spent enough time together already, sir.”

She speaks the words as guilelessly as she can. Roy brushes the backs of his fingers down her spine. “Quality time,” he elaborates. He watches her arch her back and press her chest against him. There is a hunger in his expression that Riza recognizes and appreciates. She responds to him on instinct, always. Just knowing that he wants her is enough to make her almost immediately start thinking along the same lines.

(Roy has complimented her on that, in the past.  _ I love how responsive you are,  _ he has whispered to her, between long, open-mouthed, eager kisses, as she wrapped her legs around him, as she dug her fingers into his back.  _ My sweet Riza. _ ) 

The memory makes Riza shift slightly on the sofa. (She loves when Roy calls her that. He loves the effect it has on her; the way it makes her melt, the way it makes almost every bit of rational thought leave her mind at once; the way it replaces her composure with unbridled, helpless desire.) “All the time I spend with you is quality time.” She looks him right in the eyes. “Sir.”

Roy exhales, short and sharp. Riza can see the effort it takes him to not pull her into his arms right here. He stands, and offers a hand to her. “Come with me, Hawkeye.”

It is the guiltiest of pleasures, but Riza loves when he uses that tone with her. She loves Roy’s voice in general; it has always brought her an immeasurable amount of comfort. This particular tone of command has a certain effect on her as well.

Riza places her hand in his. She rises to stand beside him, and anticipation unfurls within her. “Yes, sir.”

Riza leads him to their bedroom. Roy places a gentle hand on the nape of her neck as they walk. She shivers, just a little.

Their room is dark. Riza pulls the curtains shut and lights the lamp, letting its dim, warm light partially illuminate the room. Roy sits on the bed, watching her. Due to the heat in Ishval and the nature of their manual labor, he wears less formal clothing here than he has always preferred. He opted for a pair of dark pants and a simple, light long-sleeved shirt tonight. It is dark red, reminiscent of the carnelians that the Ishvalans historically mined. It is not a color that her General typically wears, but Riza notes that he carries it very well.

Roy removes the shirt, pulling it off in one smooth movement. The breath nearly catches in Riza’s throat. She should have developed a tolerance, after almost a year. She has not. Roy’s arms, shoulders, and chest had been muscular and well-defined even before they arrived in Ishval. The long hours of heavy, hard labor here have only served to add more breadth and strength to his arms and shoulders.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” Roy murmurs, studying her. He takes his glasses off, and sets them on the bedside table. “Come here.”

Riza does. She sits on his lap, winding her arms around his shoulders, sighing with appreciation at their closeness. Roy nuzzles his nose against hers. He pulls her in for a kiss, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other on her back, pressing her tight against him. They cling to one another, passionate but unhurried, and satisfaction sinks into her. It’s going to be the kind of night where they take their time with one another.

They finally pull apart. Riza stands up, reaching for the top button of her blouse. “What would you like me to do, sir?” 

Roy weighs his options. They undress each other most of the time, but there’s always opportunity to play things differently. He looks her over from head to toe, and then back up again. “Take it off for me,” he orders. “All of it.”

She loves when he tells her to do that. Riza tries to keep her movements measured, betraying none of her impatience or eagerness. Her fingers don’t fumble on the buttons of her blouse as she undoes them, slowly and deliberately, shrugging the blouse off. She removes her skirt next, and Roy’s gaze immediately drops to her thighs. 

“Do you want me to find that short skirt you like?” Riza asks. “It’s in the closet somewhere. I just saw it earlier this week when I unpacked.”

Roy looks torn between his desire to see her in that particular skirt again, and his more immediate desires. He moves, leaning his back against the wall, settling into a more comfortable position to watch the rest. Riza follows his movements as he removes his belt, setting it aside. “Next time.” 

Riza slowly slips one bra strap off her shoulders, and then the other. Roy’s attention is near unblinking. She catches him swallowing as he stares at her. She reaches around and unhooks her bra. Instead of letting it drop, she holds it in barely in place with her arms at her sides, savoring the anticipation, the moment of teasing. Roy’s fingers are curled around the bedspread, holding it tight. It is gratifying, intoxicating, to be wanted so much. It makes her warm all over. 

Riza finishes undressing and then joins him on the bed. Roy takes her into his arms immediately, pulling her onto his lap, flush against him. His grip is far from gentle, but she likes that. She likes a little bit of roughness, with the person she trusts most in the world. Roy knows that, too. Every bit of patient restraint he showed earlier melts away when he tangles his fingers in her hair, pulling her in for a hard, hungry kiss. His teeth nip against her bottom lip, and Riza struggles to keep up. Sometimes he makes her feel like she is drowning, in the best possible way. She likes being pulled under. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Roy whispers, between kisses. “My beautiful girl. My Riza.”

Riza moans at the compliment, cupping his face in both of her hands. Maybe tonight isn’t going to be a night where they take their time with one another. She is nearly fevered with urgency. She wants him now, but she isn’t the one giving orders tonight.

Roy eases her onto her back. On nights where they have had a little too much to drink, Riza and Rebecca have talked about restraints.  _ Nylons are great,  _ Rebecca said frankly, sipping her wine.  _ You can tie them loose. Men’s ties work in a pinch, too.  _

Roy has plenty of ties, and Riza has a few pairs of nylons. But there is nothing she prefers more than the warmth and pressure of Roy’s hands on her wrists. He pins both of them above her head with one hand and settles above her, kissing her, tilting her face up to his with his other hand. She arches her neck. Roy reads the silent request, stroking his fingers up and down her neck and along her collarbones, shoulders, and breasts. 

The light touches make her entire body tingle with anticipation, and Riza trembles. Roy follows the touches with kisses, nipping at her skin. It’s been more than a day since he last shaved, and his stubble scrapes her skin even more. Riza almost doesn’t recognize the tiny sounds she’s making, the near-whimpers of pleasure, as something that could come from her.

Roy smiles against her neck, clearly satisfied by her reaction. “Do you like that, sweetheart?” 

“Yes.” Riza’s voice is unsteady. She swallows, and shakes her bangs out of her eyes. “Yes, sir. I love it.” 

Roy places one hand on her lower stomach, near her hips, where she is particularly sensitive. Then he brushes his knuckles over her lower stomach and her hips, torturously slow. Riza can’t hold back a shuddering gasp, almost a sob. 

She can tell from the look on Roy’s face, from the way he is watching her, that even though this is a night where he is calling every one of the shots, he wants her to direct him further. He wants her to ask for it. To beg him for more, and tell him exactly what she wants him to do to her. He likes that as much as she likes him ordering her around.

Riza exhales, trying to catch her breath. She’s going to need it in a couple of minutes. “How do you want me, sir?” Her voice is still breathy, not quite its usual calm, restrained cadence.

Roy caresses down her body, from collarbone to navel, lingering between her breasts. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Riza replies, before he even finishes the sentence. 

“I want you on top of me tonight.” Roy releases her wrists. “Is that all right with you?”

He always checks in with her like this, making sure she is comfortable. Riza sits up, stroking his shoulders. She kisses him, cuddling close. “I would do anything for you, sir.” 

Both of them know that her words aren’t just part of their flirtation. Roy presses a kiss to her brow, and then her lips. Accepting her devotion, and returning it in full measure. 

Roy moves to rest against the bed, and he helps her onto his lap. His hands are gentle but firm as he places them on her back, easing her fully down on top of him, and Riza gasps at how good it feels.

It is easy to work together like this. Despite her position on top, she allows Roy to guide her movements, with his hands at her back, her hips, curling around the backs of her thighs, all over her. They have been together long enough that he knows exactly when she wants gentle touch, and when she wants something rougher. The pressure he gives her tonight, his fingers digging into her skin, his grip and his kisses nothing short of possessive, is just right. 

Riza buries her face in Roy’s shoulder, kissing and nipping at his neck and collarbone. She tastes the faint salt of sweat on her lips, and breathes in the scent of his aftershave. Another familiar, comforting scent. Roy cradles the back of her head in one hand. “Good girl.” His voice is ragged with exertion, but the affection in it is unmistakable. “My sweetheart.”

Riza shudders with pleasure, hugging him tight. She loves hearing that. It had been the object of many fantasies, during the years she nursed what she thought was an unrequited interest in him. 

Roy places his hands on either side of her neck - not her throat, but near where her shoulders meet her neck. Riza tilts her head back with a small, completely inarticulate sound of satisfaction, and he uses the light grip to keep easing her down on him. 

It is one of their strange quirks that neither of them close their eyes when they are intimate. Roy always stares at her face, into her eyes, as if desperate to memorize the way she looks when he has her overcome with pleasure in his arms. Riza gazes at him in turn, loving the way he watches her; loving seeing him like this. She had wanted this for so very long. She never gets tired of looking into his dark eyes, and seeing him happy and content.

Roy keeps one hand where it is. He reaches up with the other to cup her face, and Riza nuzzles against his palm. “You always make me feel so good, Roy,” she whispers, completely honestly. She confessed to Rebecca, once, that sex with Roy is the best she has ever had. It’s not just the physical aspect of it, the expression of years of pent-up longing and pure physical attraction, that sets it apart. It is mental, and emotional. Every time they do this, the act is loaded with absolute trust. She can let go with him, completely and totally, in a way she’s never experienced before. He lets her explore anything and everything in a space of comfort and safety. 

“Good.” Roy traces her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “That’s what I want.”

Riza braces her forehead against his. “What else do you want, sir?”

Roy takes her by the hips again and tells her how much he loves her, how completely he loves her, and how he will always love her, until she comes undone for him. Roy follows her over the edge, and they cling to one another, panting for breath. Riza kisses every part of him she can easily reach. His cheek, his chin, his jaw. “I love you,” she says. Her eyes are damp with tears. “I love you so much.”

Roy kisses her temple. “I love you too.” 

They end up showering together, even though the shower stall is barely large enough for one, let alone two. It’s late enough that they should really go to bed if Riza is going to be up in time for her morning run with Rebecca. Roy cuddles her in the shower anyway, and Riza holds him until the warm water runs out. 

Roy sleeps in just a pair of boxers, and once they are under the covers, Riza removes the shirt and shorts she had worn while brushing her teeth. She curls up against Roy, as she does every night. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her close against him. It gets warm sometimes, but both of them like the skin-to-skin contact. 

Roy runs his fingers through her hair, ruffling the soft locks. Riza kisses the inside of his arm. “We shouldn’t stay up like this every night,” she warns, around a yawn. “It’s very irresponsible.”

“We won’t. Tonight was a special occasion.” Roy hugs her again, and kisses the top of her head. “Sleep well, my heart. Dream of me.”

Riza closes her eyes, resting her forehead against his chest, completely content and well-loved. “I will.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always slightly embarassed to share nsfw content, and even more so for this. I've never dipped my toes (or my keyboard fingers, lmao) into writing dom/sub before, even though this was probably gentle and tame, all things considered. It's definitely something I imagine as being part of Riza and Roy's intimate life in the context of "delicate." I like the idea of the complete trust, safety, and security that exists between them, making it possible for them to explore this dynamic. 
> 
> Shout out to @thatisadamnfinecupofcoffee for coining the GENIUS term (dom)estic royai to refer to this particular genre of Roy and Riza living together and doing domestic things (as well as other things) together. Another gem was (sub)ordinate. ;) 
> 
> Also, @raposabranca on tumblr drew an absolutely beautiful illustration of Roy and Riza sleeping in one another's arms that perfectly captures how I imagine them in their bedroom in Ishval - please check it out! 
> 
> The title is taken from Taylor Swift's "Treacherous." 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading. I would love to know what you think! Comments are deeply appreciated.
> 
> I am also on tumblr @lantur if you would like to connect. :) I hope you have a great weekend!


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